


A place in the hierarchy

by Morrell



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrell/pseuds/Morrell
Summary: As the magical world teetered on the brink of exposure once again, Percival Graves found himself cornered by the strangest of events. With Tina Goldstein's growing obsession with the New Salem Philanthropic Society and her interest in befriending a sad, young No-Maj male serving as the catalyst to Graves' defeat at the hand of an unexpectedly powerful foe. Aka my take on real Graves' life, from the moment just before he met Credence and was too late to stop Tina from assaulting Mary Lou, to the point he met Grindelwald. And a little bit past that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! My name is Morrell.  
> [Hi Morrell!]  
> And I, like many others, felt the need to write drabble about the real Percival Graves.  
> [Aww]  
>   
> It's writing practice, so expect some minor hiccups. No explicit romance. I do think Graves and Credence built up an interesting if terse relationship. There's no way Grindelwald earned the guy's trust all on his own, even with that stolen handsome face. Also, Tina Goldstein tried to do what was right. Right?

Against better judgment, Graves quietly left the office for an early lunch that afternoon. He couldn't get the New Salem Philanthropic Society out of his head anymore, even if he tried. Wherever he looked, he was reminded of their growing influence and parasitic means of squirming onto every page of the daily news. At first, he had noticed it but barely. 

A passing article on a page further in. A headline with a sleazy remark about their antics. Mere discussions and questions about these paranoid No-Majs, all with little to no relevance to his work, no more important than the article on the new model of Comet brooms to be released just in time for Christmas. It had, however, become increasingly difficult for Graves to ignore their presence after Goldstein's relentless insistence they must be put to a halt. Or at the very least, kept tabs on.

Not a day had gone by without the younger Auror placing new bits and pieces of evidence on his desk, slipping them into his office post box, under his door and even one into his lunch box one afternoon. The latter had been a remarkable feat even by his standards and had left Graves wanting to enforce an extra lock on his office door. He merely worried she’d cram more clippings into that, too.

Clippings of newspapers, both magical and of No-Maj origin, whether fully related or barely in touch with the topic, Perpentina Goldstein had obtained and shared it with her superior. She wasn't entirely wrong in wanting to address the matter and Graves knew it. After all, the New Salem Philanthropic Society was not entirely grasping at straws. Even their posters were now adorned by two hands snapping a wand, hinting at at least one of the No-Majs having encountered a witch or wizard at one point. 

To interfere with such delicate matters so swiftly was too risky, Graves had explained to her several times. It simply wasn't done. 

The president would have his head if he wasted any time now, what with the increased damages done by some rogue wizard or another, bits of pavements and parts of buildings inexplicably torn asunder more and more regularly. Not to mention the increased rowdiness among their own people, the increased criminal activity nation-wide and the reports about Grindelwald’s rise to power in Europe. Tina's endearing fascination with a group of obscene No-Maj individuals would have to wait.

And still, Graves couldn't shake off the feeling he had to address her obsession eventually. Being out of the office ought to clear his head, he reckoned. Maybe a snack or some coffee would help, too. It was a grey day. Maybe leaving his umbrella behind had been a bad idea. 

Graves mirthlessly whistled as he went, thoughtlessly watching No-Majs go about their business in the shops he passed. He had always been among wizarding kind and found the idea of living without his magic abhorrent. Nonetheless, he could appreciate how some No-Majs survived and lived their day to day lives. At the very least, they had discovered coffee and distributed that far and wide. 

Without giving it any real consideration, Graves' legs carried him straight to the Second Salemers' church. The address was firmly embedded in his memory after the umpteenth article Goldstein had shared with him. 

It wouldn't harm to check the place out, he decided. Perhaps it would even give him enough to tell Goldstein to return to her other duties. Or to find a more suitable hobby for her spare time. 

And so Graves lingered on the sidewalk diagonally opposite the church, by a wall. He occasionally peered at his watch, pretending to be waiting for someone, while keeping tabs on the time. Just five minutes, he told himself. Five minutes and then he’d head back. 

As Goldstein had mentioned, the church offered shelter to many a child. Some came and went in the few minutes he stood there, and each of the ones who came outside carried a few flyers to hand out. He shook his head at a passing girl offering him one, steeling himself against her pitiful appearance. 

The church had fallen into a state of disrepair over the years but it had not stopped Mary Lou Barebone from allowing her family to reside in it on the long term. Graves could dimly make out the silhouettes of people behind one of the upstair windows. Nothing seemed to be particularly out of the ordinary.

A drop of rain landed square on his head and snapped Graves from his thoughts. He sighed at the darkened sky. Within seconds, the downpour was bad enough to obscure a clear view of the church. The fingers of his left hand twitched, the urge to conjure an umbrella or simply Apparate elsewhere intensifying. No-one would notice him vanish in rain so thick and sudden. Rather than choose on time, the rain stopped just above him and he glanced up, then aside. 

"Sir?"  
"Goldstein," he greeted her coolly, even though she very gallantly held her own umbrella over his head more than over her own. Thick drops of rain bounced off Porpentina Goldstein's hat. Tippy-toed, the woman looked at him expectantly with her big brown eyes, and for several seconds, Graves stared at her forehead. 

Reflexively, his thoughts had clouded and his gaze had wandered away so as to not meet her gaze. Occlumency, something he had started practising initially for the rare occasions on which he still met Tina's sister, who was an accomplished Legilimens. Unnervingly so, at that. Queenie Goldstein could maintain entire conversations without the other party uttering a word, going off of every thought; whether a thought was conscious or subconscious was irrelevant to the woman. 

Being hardly a master in either mental art himself, it had yet again broken Graves' initial train of thought. It led to a rather awkward pause.

Around them, No-Maj folk hurried along. The sound of lightning rumbled in the distance, and the few trees lining the street had begun to rustle as the wind picked up. Lingering much longer would single them out, place focus on them. In fact, Graves was positive that the young man who hurried past them toward the church had been inches from bumping into them. 

"With me," Graves decided and he beckoned her, a hand outstretched. Tina handed over the umbrella without so much as a word and obediently followed him. He scarcely altered his long strides, forcing her to scurry after him in a fashion which nicely matched the way in which No-Majs ran for shelter. At least he got mild amusement out of her.

Once they were in an alleyway two blocks down, Graves halted and whirled around to face Tina. She almost bumped into him and he only just refrained from snorting at it. A smirk he couldn’t hide, though he ran a hand across his jaw, down his chin to avert the expression.

"What are you doing out of the office?" he asked pointedly.

"The same as you, sir," Tina replied curtly, and even though her shoulders slouched a little she continued daringly. "To make sure the Second Salem-"  
"No, wrong answer," he waved his hand about dismissively. "I tasked you with that pile of papers for a reason."  
"All done. On your desk. Alphabetically. Unless you wanted them sorted by date?"

Graves narrowed his eyes. Goldstein was without a doubt a hard worker, and he would have deeply appreciated this fact, had it not been for the fact she pursued this case so relentlessly without being told to. 

"I'm sorry, mister Graves. I just wanted to make sure Credence and the other children were alright. They have a leaky roof, too," she added, gesturing up at the downpour. Graves shifted the umbrella ever so slightly, allowing her to shelter under it again too. 

He'd forgotten about it and now she resembled a sad, drowning kitten. As much as Graves tried to steel himself against unnecessary emotional involvement, after many harsh lessons and years of practice, he still hated having to put his own people through too much hardship or folly.  
"Look," Tina dug around her coat's pocket and drew a flyer from it. Unable to hide his deepening sense of annoyance any longer, Graves pinched at the bridge of his nose and then snatched the thing from her fingers. A new design, the letters bolder but it was still very much a worthless piece of evidence in a case he currently had no time for. 

"Do I really need to summon your sister to read off every inch of my brain that I haven't time for this, so she may translate and relay that to you, Goldstein?"

"But there's blood..." she trailed off, lowering her gaze in humiliation. Graves shook his head at her, regarding the flyer. The folded top left corner of the flyer had a dried brown smudge on it. Thoughtlessly, Graves pushed the umbrella back into his subordinate's hands and drew his wand once he was sure no-one was watching them. He tapped at the smudge and it slowly turned pitch black. Had it been anything else, it would simply have vanished. It was blood. Graves digested this information.

"Probably a papercut. No, please don't look at me like that. Fine. I'll send someone over, just in case. Not you," he added as he caught her hopeful glance. "Someone with no prejudice in the matter. Who can act. With a good excuse and a disguise. If only so we can put this behind us and you can focus back on your actual job."

"Yes, sir. Fixing leaky roofs in autumn time are a good excuse."


	2. Chapter 2

Finding someone capable of acting naturally around No-Majs proved more difficult than Graves originally suspected. He silently cursed M.A.C.U.S.A.'s ever tightening security protocols and the President’s increased paranoia as he beckoned Goldstein to follow him to his office. 

With what he hoped seemed like his most threatening yet polite demeanor, Graves was soon laying out the plan to Goldstein herself. She vehemently nodded at his instructions, took notes, inspected her disguise and the props she was to take with her; she was obviously trying very hard to be on her best behaviour. She barely even spoke and wasn’t wise-cracking at him. It only made Graves more reluctant to let her go.

When Tina finally closed the door of his office behind her, carrying her disguise in her arms, Graves let out a deep sigh. He sat down on the edge of his desk, still facing the door. It felt wrong to let her go by herself, but his other Aurors had all been sent out on errands of their own. 

The haphazard destruction of buildings and streets had worsened over the course of the week, and Graves had set some of his best men on repairing things, investigating the causes and Obliviating any No-Majs involved. 

If it hadn't been for Goldstein, only he himself remained, and there were only so many No-Majs he could tolerate at any given time. Graves had always been with wizarding kind and had devoted every second of his life to magic. He had been raised and molded carefully by his own father to claim his rightful position as an Auror, following his ancestors' footsteps. Fitting in with a crowd of No-Majs Graves could manage well enough. Having conversations at length was not a thing he was too fond of though, no matter the company. Fooling a No-Maj or two at length proved difficult at times. Fooling Mary Lou Barebone into thinking he wasn’t magically inclined, however, seemed downright impossible.

"Percival," a woman’s voice said right next to his ear.

Graves barely managed to keep himself from starting too violently, averting his twitching hand by adjusting the cuff of his sleeve instead. His heart had skipped a beat, however.  
The President of M.A.C.U.S.A herself, Seraphina Picquery was one of a select few individuals with the permissions and thus the ability to Apparate around the premise freely. His office included. And unlike many a witch or wizard, her method of Apparating and Disapparating had been perfected with utmost dedication and precision.

No bang or pop, no flash or blur. Just her person moving in and out of existence. Graceful and delicate, just as she was. And she still delighted in her own ability to do so, Graves could tell. Picquery’s eyes sparkled delightfully as she sat right next to him on the edge of his desk, one leg swung gracefully over the other.

"Madam President," he returned the greeting belatedly, inclining his head. He pushed away from the desk and turned to face her, deciding to grant her some personal space. It felt more appropriate that way.  
"Occupying Goldstein?" Madam Picquery asked with a gesture toward the door, her dark, soft lips pursing ever so slightly. Graves surmised it was distaste of sorts.  
"Essentially."

"Do you believe her rambling to be of value, then?" she looked him dead in the eye. He knew she possessed no latent talent for Legilimency. With a polite smile Graves offered her the slightest of a shrug. It wasn't far from the truth. He loathed thinking Goldstein was correct in the matter and hated wasting time on it, when more dire matters were presenting themselves without pause. Yet, somewhere deep down he felt she may have been onto something. Anything at all. No self-respecting witch or wizard would act as she had for no reason, after all. Or should have. Additionally, he refused to believe he had been mistaken in appointing her the position of Auror.

"I see," Madam Picquery said stiffly, evidently not agreeing. She glanced over her shoulder. Graves self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, suddenly aware of how much of his precious time Goldstein had actually claimed that morning. His paperwork had been left unattended since the night before, resulting in the delivery system piling paper after paper in disarray. A few paper mice hadn't even properly unfolded from their transfigured state, a papery tail sticking out from between a stack. 

Said stack threatened to slide off his desk, he realised, teetering on the edge. Madam Picquery followed his gaze and handily plucked the tail from it. After giving it a shake to unfold it, she eyed the paper with very little interest and then put it back down. She seemed disappointed.

"Work in progress," Graves said flatly, knowing full well he'd be bent over each and every single page for hours to come. He moved his left hand, eyeing the papers that were sliding further and further after Picquery's interference, and by his bidding they crept back onto the desk.

"Manners, Percival."

Graves sighed, shot her a dreary look and rather openly drew his wand instead, to neaten his desk in a fashion Picquery deemed more appropriate. She had never been too fond of his excessive use of wandless magic, as she considered it an unstable and inferior means to an end. 

He also suspected it had something to do with the fact that despite her ever growing list of lifetime achievements, Seraphina Picquery could not will anything magical to do her bidding accurately if her slender fingers weren't wrapped neatly around the wood of a wand.

To spite her ever so slightly, Graves still made sure to cast his spells non-verbally even when he added the grandeur of a swish or swoosh of his wand. Now with a lousy flick of his wrist, loose papers slowly crawled onto a pile. Once they were all in place atop one another, they hopped into a neat, straight stack at another flick of his wand. He didn't doubt that some pages ended up upside down or folded in the mass.

The President looked at Graves for a moment, shaking her head at his antics. He raised both eyebrows, feigning innocence and put his wand back in place. 

 

"Either way, I didn’t come to observe your lacklustre administrative skills. I came to ask your opinion on the matter of Grindelwald's rise in Europe. Privately, this time. I am officially laying down with a mild headache for another... seventeen minutes."

She smiled deviously and Graves couldn't help but smirk at that. Picquery had always had her way with twisting the truth ever so slightly in places she thought none would notice. He had, however, been quick to notice when she had first taken office. Deciding back then that he liked her well enough, he had helpfully pointed out to her that she lacked the subtlety necessary to persuade anyone. That, and she failed to be consistent. So by her request, he had helped her perfect the art by covering her petty lies. In return, she had allowed him a few privileges extra here and there. The ability to Disapparate from, and Apparate to his own office had been among the first things she had granted him. It had led to them building up a peculiar relationship of cat and mouse. 

"You do look dreadfully sick," Graves remarked lightly and he went on. "Last I read they had lost sight of him. Escaped. Blew up a few Aurors as he went. That was a day ago." He gestured at the newspaper he had abandoned the night before. It lay buried beneath older paperwork on a side table next to his bookshelf. 

"You know that I expect you to-” she got onto her feet.  
"Stay up to date. Yes. I’ve been busy, if you recall. That beast or wizard gone rogue, whatever we think it is, that’s been tearing half the city asunder, for one. Would be tolerable if it weren’t for your latest idea. Registering every single No-Majs’ name that we Obliviate, the topics, date and times. It’s highly inefficient.”

“Less intervention in No-Maj business would altogether help, too," Picquery said as if addressing a child, waving away his criticism. "But let me fill you in. Rumour has it that Grindelwald may be trying to reach us. There are eyewitnesses who claim to have seen him lingering by a harbour. You know what that means."

"More pointless investigations because of people’s misguided paranoia? Wasting precious manpower, while some powerful creature is on the loose in our streets? Or wait, more unannounced visits by you, only to be told I should be doing my job while deliberately being kept away from my job?" he offered cynically. 

“If I say so, then yes,” Picquery said, her eyes narrowing. “Do not forget your place.”  
“I won’t,” he assured her bitterly, and then aimed his right hand at the abandoned newspaper. It jolted out from under the pile of papers fast enough to leave them perfectly in place, like a tablecloth being yanked off of a set dinner table. It soared across the room at an alarming speed and made the dustbin rock back and forth as it slammed into it. 

Graves’ Aurors had been out and about so often of late that he had barely seen half of them in over a week. Two men he had not spoken to personally in three weeks. Or maybe four. The rest came and went in a hurry, and even Goldstein’s errand seemed less redundant than chasing some vague rumours about Grindelwald himself appearing in the States. The last thing Graves needed was his obviously paranoid employer trying to lecture him on his tasks, while she was in the middle of slacking at her own job.

"Do you have to be so spectacularly difficult today, _Percy_? If you kept up to date, you’d know why I am concerned."

"You fear a revolution, _Madam President_ ," he pocketed both hands and looked her in the eye. She continued to stare him down. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Yes. I do. So if you could find a minute to spare every once in a while, when not sending your people out onto the streets to frolic with harmless No-Majs," she snapped, stepping closer to him. "Then please, think about this. And what it may mean if it is true. And how we will fight it, if the worst comes to pass."

"I'll think about it. If you'll excuse me for now-," before he could finish, she had already Disapparated and he bitterly muttered at the emptiness of the room instead. "Yes, thank you so much."


	3. Chapter 3

It took days before Graves fully realised that something seemingly had gone amiss. Or rather, everything had returned to normal and it left him with a most peculiar vacant feeling. Goldstein had filed the report about her visit to fix a roof on the same day she had seen to the task, and had been silent about the matter ever after. 

Only when she put a cup of coffee at the last unoccupied corner of his desk, Graves fully realised what it was that seemed off to him. This only sank in fully because there wasn't a newspaper clipping or flyer drifting in the black liquid. No shred of information lay buried in between every other page of his work, either. Nothing had been stuffed inside his quill or replaced the cap of his ink jar, and even as they looked at one another, she said nothing.

"Goldstein?" he called after her, suspiciously stirring about the contents of the cup. Nothing but coffee in it and a half-melted cube of sugar at the bottom of it. All normal.

"Mister Graves?"

He looked at her momentarily, half-expecting her to explain herself. When she didn't and just bobbed back and forth on her feet, Graves simply dismissed her with a wave of his hand and tried to focus on the written request in front of him. 

A proposed permit of sorts. Some insignificant investigator of the department of No-Maj Relations wanted access to a cursed book that had been locked away three floors underground. It had almost cost Graves a limb to retrieve the damned thing, and he'd sooner go to a No-Maj bingo meeting than ever have it dug up again. 

With a big flourish, he dotted down, "Denied." and signed the paper. His signature was getting more and more askew, his wrist aching. He’d been relentlessly working his way through piles of paperwork for hours. As he leaned back in his chair to rest his hand, Graves earnestly wondered how the New Salem Philanthropic Society were doing, and silently cursed himself as he got up. 

He should just enjoy the silence while it lasted, but couldn't convince himself that it was the right thing to do.  
And so Graves wandered out of his own office, locked the door as he always did and strolled down the hall, to halt at the corner, allowing his eyes to adjust to the brighter workspace. 

"Goldstein?"

"Sir?" Tina lowered her own cup too fast, some of its contents spilling over her desk. She fretted about, dabbing at the coffee with her sleeve, cheeks bright red. The sound of scratching quills and rustling papers in the room abruptly halted.

"Is there something you need to talk about?" Graves asked. He noticed that the three other Aurors in the office were trying to exchange subtle glances with one another, behind Goldstein's back. It rather reminded him of children in school, rather than his trained employees. Their acting needed work.

"Sir?" Tina stopped ruining her blouse's sleeve to look at him after the moment’s pause. 

Still, everyone breathlessly watched the exchange, now more blatantly. Had it really been this long since he had spoken directly to anyone in the office, for them to act so surprised? Graves pressed on.

"Is there anything you need to talk about?" he repeated. 

He watched how Goldstein glanced over her shoulder and became aware of the others’ insistent staring. Graves raised a hand ever so slightly when one man leant over his desk so as to hear their conversation better. _Flipendo_ was undoubtedly the easiest jinx to employ non-verbally and wandlessly without even looking at the target; Auror Jones' paperwork was sent flying against the far wall as Graves brought his hand back down in a rapid swooping motion.

 

"Do pick that up," Graves let out flatly. “Except you, Goldstein.”

The Aurors jumped up in one fluent motion and rushed over, muttering amongst themselves and passing the blame in hushed hissing. Perhaps a team building exercise would do them good soon. 

“I really don’t think this is necessary, sir,” Tina started tentatively.  
Graves wasn't sure how a woman who lived with Legilimens could be this bad at lying or hiding things. Then again, if he were in the constant presence of someone who knew his every move before he did, he might never have bothered either. Perhaps it was exactly what had led her to never learn how to.

"My office," he decided. Tina hurried after him. Once inside his office, Graves offered her a chair and sat down at his desk. He pulled out his wand and made the remainder of the day's paperwork levitate off to a shelf on the side.

"Explain to me why you haven't mentioned the Second Salemers in days. Did something happen? Something you failed to write down?"

Tina continued to nervously pluck at her coffee stained, soggy sleeve and shook her head a few times. With a well-aimed flick of his wand, Graves forced the coffee to ooze out of her sleeve and float onto a handkerchief he plucked from his pocket.

"Anything, Goldstein?"

"It's Mary Lou. Their leader and... well, their mother. I think she hurts the children. Her son is-"

"Do you have evidence?" Graves pocketed his wand again and rested his elbows on the surface of his desk.

"No, but… well..."

"Then put it out of your head," he folded his fingers together, resting his chin loosely against them. She seemed appalled but didn't get up yet. Graves had learned a long time ago that caring too deeply about every person crossing his path only made his job harder on him. Goldstein had yet to fully realise this, still getting worked up over injustice of any kind. Getting the lesson in self-preservation through to her was no easy task at all.

 

"Please, listen. The blood on that flyer, remember? It was his. The boy's. We can't just leave them. Those children are being hurt and used, mister Graves."

"There is nothing we can do, Goldstein," he tried to keep his tone of voice as neutrally as he could, tired of having to explain it yet again. "These are No-Majs who are already by some means aware of our existence. Their posters and flyers prove that. And even still, they’re far from the top of our list of priorities. The truth is that we simply lack the means to see to every family's needs. Or children’s needs. It's not our job."

"No-Maj women don't fix roofs, sir. It's not their job, either. So Mary Lou didn't believe me one bit. I came up with another story, instead. She is already suspicious as is," Tina stubbornly straightened up and squared her shoulders as if she had accomplished something by purposefully misbehaving. She hadn't mentioned this in her report, either.

Another sigh escaped Graves and he leant back in his seat, watching the determined younger Auror. How had he forgotten about the No-Majs' silly insistence women need to stay home and do nothing but the housekeeping? He'd almost wish Tina Goldstein were at home doing something mundane herself. Like the dishes. Almost.

"What would you have me do, Goldstein? How would you like to help them? Steal them away when she's not looking?"

"Maybe. That is... the part I can't quite work out, actually. But we must do something. Please."

"Don't plead with me. We have rules. Protocols. Cases like these are miles down the hierarchy. And you're accomplished enough to know this all too well," Graves added sharply. "If I see you near them again..."

He didn't have to threaten her at all, for she had already slammed his office's door shut behind her in a hurry. Maybe he should've had her retrieve that cursed book. So he could smack her upside the head with it, if not himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Graves silently cursed himself as he followed Tina under the guise of a smelly, old invisibility cloak that had once belonged to his great grandfather. The thing would not fool many a witch or wizard anymore, merely camouflaging his outline, but it would most certainly trick the No-Majs who were going about their business on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Most importantly, it would fool Tina as she consciously wandered closer and closer to the church.

Graves had set one of his men on her after their last meeting, whilst assuring the man it was but part of a larger training schedule. It had worked. In but three days, Tina rebelled against Graves’ orders to leave the Second Salemers be. She seemed intent on keeping tabs on the orphans, no matter the consequences. 

With a heavy heart, Graves had dismissed his appointed snitch and promised to look into the matter personally. Catch her in the act, teach her the error of her ways and move on. It seemed simple enough. Or so Graves hoped.

A No-Maj with a cart pushed past him, and Graves narrowly kept his feet from getting crushed under the wheel. He bit back the urge to rebuke the man for not watching where he was going. Shaking his head, Graves hurried around, making sure to stay at a distance from Tina. 

Once nearer to the church, he pressed his back against the wall of an adjacent building. She seemed hesitant to approach the entrance directly. He watched how she moved around it with sure strides, as if she belonged there. It helped her attract as little attention as possible, even as she peered in through one of the windows on the side. 

All the while, she subtly kept tabs on the street. If nothing else, Graves hadn’t been mistaken in her abilities to move easily around No-Maj crowds.

The knowledge scarcely delighted him, however. This was all the proof he needed. A hand outstretched, he made way for Tina, intending to Disapparate and take her along. Instead, she Disapparated but a split second before he could touch her. Graves felt the rush of magical energy brush past him.

His heart sank. He saw the unmistakable blur, followed by her Apparition inside the church. Tina ran up the stairs inside, her wand held at the ready. Beyond her, Graves could make out the silhouettes of two others. 

Without hesitation, he followed her and Disapparated. The worn invisibility cloak fell off him. The interior of the church was as barren as its outsides had made him suspect, but Graves had little time to dwell on these things. He Apparated right behind Tina, just on the upstairs floor and just a second too late.

His Auror, Porpentina Goldstein, sent a spell straight at a No-Maj woman. Mary Lou Barebone fell onto her knees as the stunning spell struck her in the back, leaving her wide-eyed and gasping. 

“Goldstein!” Graves yelled in disbelief, reaching for his own wand. She ignored him and stepped past Mary Lou to check on her pitiful son, instead. Graves watched how Tina knelt beside him and carefully placed a hand on his trembling shoulder, to try and comfort him. 

Before he could wave his wand to put everything right, Mary Lou Barebone scrambled to her feet. She menacingly held onto the belt she had dropped, knuckles whitened with how tightly she held it. She backed away, shaking her head, eyes bulging and mouth gaping. 

“You-” she breathlessly let out. Mary Lou pointed from Tina to Graves, to finally stop at the wand he was holding. “Filth!”  
“Please, listen to us!” Tina began but Graves had seen enough. He lashed his wand at Mary Lou once, sending the belt flying from her grasp. 

“I knew it...” she started, a ludicrous grin on her face. He had no intention to let her finish or explain, knowing full well after some research that this woman descended from the very No-Majs who had led to the deaths of hundreds in their witch hunts of days long past. Before she could utter another sound, Graves set out to perform the Memory Charm to the best of his abilities. Make her forget this moment. Make her forget the hour prior to the moment. Make her recall nothing but her waking up, maybe her breakfast if lucky. 

“Obliviate.” 

The tip of his wand glowed momentarily and as it did, Mary Lou’s features relaxed. Her shoulders slouched and she hazily gazed into nothingness. A peculiar smile took a hold of her face, then, and Graves grimaced. It did not suit the woman. Perhaps he had been inaccurate.

“Mister Graves…” Tina muttered. She had helped the Barebone boy get onto his feet. 

“Escort him downstairs. She’ll need a minute,” Graves gestured for them to go first. Tina quietly did as told and even had the mind to steer the boy out of direct view from his dazed mother. Aside from a pigeon in the windowsill overhead, nothing or no-one could see them there. 

“What were you thinking…” Graves muttered, readying his wand to perform another Memory Charm. Tina merely shook her head, stepping away from the Barebone boy as Graves gestured at her to do so. He was older than he had first guessed. Taller, too. 

Focus, Graves thought. To align this one’s memory to his mother’s would prove difficult, but not impossible. Graves pointed his wand at the young No-Maj. Before he could so much as utter a word to guide the Charm to its destination, the boy shoved into him at full force. Like a cornered animal. The sudden impact almost knocked Graves’ wand from his hand, staggering him. 

“Credence, no!” Tina yelled, but she was too late. Credence pushed the doors open and made a run for it. Graves steadied himself, whirled to face Tina and spat the words at her, “I got this. Do nothing. Hear that? Nothing!” 

Against better judgment, Graves hurried outside into the streets of New York, chasing after the black-haired young man. For all he had looked a tad sickly and potentially malnourished, Credence Barebone had one hell of a pair of legs. Graves cursed his own bouts of laziness as he ran after the panicked young man.

A wave of a wand here, an Apparition there; when exactly had he been taking care of himself, of that prime physical condition each Auror was expected to be in?

The stinging in his side were a bitter reminder of how much exactly he had slacked off, and the No-Majs he dodged and barked apologies at as he ran made it impossible to remedy the situation in his preferred fashion. Magic was no viable option here.

Finally, after two more streets, the young man veered off the main road and darted into an alleyway. Graves saw his chance fit. He turned the corner, pushed off against the wall, ran past a large dumpster and with the flick of a hand Disapparated to intercept his target. 

If normally this felt like being squeezed through a narrow tube, now it felt to Graves like he was being forcefully crammed through a lengthy straw. 

His whole body shook as he Apparated at his destination, the wandless magic too unstable when mingled with the heavy physical activity. He had no time to recover from the onset of dizziness as the air was knocked out of his lungs immediately. Credence collided with him at full speed, resulting in the pair of them falling and rolling over the ground.

Graves felt his numbed fingers slip across the young man's coat, unable to keep him from scrambling away from him. Still out of sight of other No-Majs, or so he prayed, Graves drew his wand, rolled over and soundlessly cast _Petrificus Totalus_. It was the only relatively harmless spell that came to mind. Credence whimpered pathetically as he landed face first on the hard ground, stiff as a board.

Panting and dizzied, Graves scrambled onto his feet. He moved alongside the wall to the corner of the alleyway to check on it. No-one had followed the pair and it seemed like no-one had noticed what had happened either. Not wanting to take his chances, he very carefully levitated Credence over to the dumpster and rested him behind it. The poor boy’s eyes were widened in shock and brimming with tears.

"Easy now. I won't harm you," Graves promised half-heartedly once he had found the breath for it. A loud clanging noise made his pounding heart skip a beat. He whirled around, wand held out threateningly. The lid of a dustbin rolled from one side of the alley to the other. It hit the wall and rotated on its handle for several more seconds until it came to a final standstill. With his wand still raised, breath held, Graves moved closer to where it had come from.

"It's nothing..." he concluded in a mutter, more to himself than anything. Perhaps the impact of his Apparition had sent it flying. 

"W-what-" it cost Credence tremendous effort to speak at all. 

"I'm here to help you," Graves turned back to the stiffened No-Maj, after he'd taken a few more steadying, deep breaths. "Promise me not to run and I'll free you. And I’ll explain everything."

Obliviating people was one thing. Obliviating a frantic magic-hating mother, who had been freshly assaulted by a fully fledged witch, was a completely different thing. And even though Graves longed to simply wipe Credence's memories on the spot as he had Mary Lou's, he knew it wasn't the right course of action. Not anymore.

For one, Mary Lou Barebone would be livid if Credence came back to her looking as he did now. His trousers were dirtied and tattered around the knees. His left one bled ever so slightly from having skid across the concrete. 

Even if the Obliviation had left Mary Lou in a scarily complacent mood, Graves wasn’t willing to risk sending the boy to her just yet. He had to create the perfect circumstances to fix this mess. Then get to Goldstein and set her straight, too. 

Credence sobbed dryly, "P-please…” 

Graves gave his wand a flick and the boy's limbs relaxed. Credence drew in a sharp breath and started to cough, scrambling away backwards as he did. He grunted as he hit the large dumpster with his back. 

"No further," Graves said warningly, still holding his wand pointed at him. He wasn't about to do anything but Credence seemed to think so and threw his hands up defensively. They were damaged and not just by the falling and stumbling, Graves realised only then. Guilt mixed with pity filled him, his stomach twisting. 

The belt. Mary Lou had lashed her son, as Goldstein had warned him about. Her actions had left several bruises and cuts on Credence’s hands and forearms. Graves suddenly did not want to imagine what more she might have done if Tina had not interfered. 

This complicated everything. Graves lowered his wand, softened his expression and moved closer to the cowering young man. 

"You're hurt. Let me see your hands. I won't harm you," he said in what he hoped was a gentler tone. He decided to demonstrate by using himself as an example, recalling to force a smile. The fall had grazed his own left elbow and he set the tip of his wand against the broken skin, non-verbally using _Episkey_. 

The spell produced an uncomfortable, hot and tingling sensation, followed by cold, but it worked nonetheless. The wound visibly healed, leaving nothing but a pink spot of fresh skin behind. Credence stared in awe, his jaw set nervously, shoulders hunched. 

“See? All better. Let me see your hands,” Graves’ voice had dropped to little more than a whisper. In spite of his aching joints, he shuffled ever so closer to the young man.

"Why would you help me?" Credence whispered back, staring down at the ground between them. "What did you… what did you do do to my mother?"

"We calmed her down. So she won't hurt you," Graves explained. It was half the truth. If he could mend the boy, Obliviate him and send him on his way all would soon return to normal. And still, he felt so sorry for Credence, who was now rocking back and forth a little. As if that would help him keep himself together. 

Graves tried to tell himself he would get it over with soon, not fully wanting to admit to the worsening sense of pity as he beckoned the young man over. Credence let out half a sob but offered him one of his bloodied hands. It mostly reminded Graves of addressing a beaten dog. Delicately, he merely set his fingers to the boy’s cold hands to keep them from shaking. He hovered the wand above the cuts. 

"It'll be a bit hot, then cold," Graves warned in a hushed voice. He focused on guiding the magic as carefully and precisely as he could muster as he tapped Credence's hand with his wand. Healing was a thing he had learned but never mastered, but for wounds as fresh and shallow as these, the small spell seemed to do the trick just fine. It risked leaving scars, but none worse than the ones the boy already had. 

"What… what will happen now?" Credence asked, his voice quivering. Graves chose not to answer. He reached out for Credence’s other hand, though he waited for the boy to grant him the permission. He did. 

When done, Graves watched how the pale young man observed his hands in wonder, flexing his fingers a few times. Hopefully, Graves thought, without them still hurting. The faintest hint of a smile touched upon the corner of Credence’s mouth, even as he insecurely glimpsed at Graves. 

For the first time in years, it pained Graves, knowing what he would have to do. Obliviate the No-Maj and get it over with, he tried to convince himself again. Instead, he found himself shuffling closer until he was sat with his back against the wall, beside the bemused youth. He set a hand to Credence’s shoulder. Credence tensed to the touch, then let out a soft sob. It was but a matter of seconds before Graves found himself empathically patting a crying No-Maj’s shoulder. Distancing himself proved ineffective. 

“There, there,” he whispered. Credence clumsily bumped his head into the man’s shoulder, still sobbing uncontrollably. 

“She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. It will be alright.” 

"Mister Graves?"

Graves felt his smile falter. Tina hurried over, carrying his invisibility cloak in her arms. She paused, awed by the situation and shrugged it off in the same instance. She knelt down, placing a hand upon Credence's other shoulder. The young man immediately seemed alarmed. Not just by the touch, but by the change in Graves’ posture. He cowered away again, intently staring down at his lap and mended hands. 

"Goldstein. Not here," Graves carefully kept his voice in check, trying to suppress his anger for the boy’s sake, even if it was too late. “This is not what I told you to do.” 

"I know. I’m sorry. But... Oh, Credence." she seemed to lose all her will to argue. 

"He is fine. I mended his wounds."

"You did? Are you… You’re going to make him forget. No - please, don’t." 

Before Graves could so much as draw breath to speak, Tina had silenced him. Magically. Her wand hidden in her sleeve. It slipped back in as fast as it had come out. Had the situation not been so dire, he might have complimented her on her excellent display of subtle wand work. Instead, he inhaled a sharp breath and impatiently gestured for her to explain herself. And fast. 

Tina did just that, looking as sincere as ever, brown eyes full of hope.  
"He needs to know that we exist. So he knows his mother is wrong about us. Not everyone is like her. He deserves to know, doesn’t he? I'll take responsibility for my actions, but please, give Credence a chance, mister Graves, sir."

Credence continued to stare down, hugging himself tightly. He had shied away from both Graves and Tina, pressing heavily against the wall and the dumpster. 

Graves lightly ran a hand across his own throat, lifting the Silencing Charm, all the while looking her in the eye. Tina averted her gaze.

"Get up," he ordered tersely as he got onto his feet. 

He could still Obliviate the pair of them, Graves thought bitterly, but that would only delay the inevitable. He extended a hand to Credence and briskly pulled him to his feet. With a flick of his wand, Reparo, the boy’s trousers knit themselves back together. Not the neatest of jobs but it would have to suffice. As she caught on to what he was doing, Tina seemed incredulous, her mouth ajar ever so slightly. 

"Just this once, Goldstein. On the count that you will not disobey again. Am I clear? Good,” he turned to face Credence, pocketing his wand. “Credence, right? I know this is a lot to take in. You see, your mother wasn’t entirely wrong. Witches and wizards do exist. But our people and yours, the non-magical people - we do not mingle. For good reasons. Your mother is right in that regard. She does not always do the right things. And neither do we. You were fortunate that Goldstein is kind." 

“So were you…” Credence mumbled, awkwardly rubbing his mended hands together. 

"I want you to keep this meeting a secret."

Credence nodded a few times, shoulders still hunched but a more determined look coming onto his features. 

"Can I… repay you?" Credence whispered, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

Graves hesitated. He would have to come back and Obliviate him eventually. Or free him from his mother. One way or another. The whole situation was too fragile to make haphazard decisions though, Graves told himself. Or rather, he lied to himself. He had gotten invested too deeply already.

"Perhaps you can. If you keep this a secret… I'll make sure to check on you every now and then. You're not alone. But you'll have to endure. Now go and see to your mother, alright. Say nothing of this. To anyone. Do we have a deal?"

Credence nodded and for the first time he dared to look at the man who’d helped him, a shy smile toying with his lips. Graves quietly established there and then that he would never simply Obliviate this poor, abused man. 

“Just endure,” he repeated with a thin smile. With that said, Graves simply reached out for Goldstein's shoulder and before either she or Credence could utter another word, he forced her to Disapparate side by side with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Graves tried not to feel sorry for a No-Maj. And failed. Miserably.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome!


End file.
